Monster Erotica, Capture, Gay
Date Published: October 6, 2023
Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Monster Erotica Story. Expect limited
plot and character development, and lots of paranormal heat. If you’re
looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!
Cove Deville knows he can’t touch alcohol without facing dire
consequences. One drink thrown in his face from a hook-up gone
embarrassingly wrong and he’s trapped in a large cooler and tossed
into a lake. Fresh water will have to do -- better than nothing. Wrong.
Discovered on the lake’s sandy shore, he’s captured by a
bewildering man. Cove’s life, or what’s left of it if he
doesn’t find salt water fast, is about to drastically change.
Kilson Arestes can not recall the last time he was held by another. The
pain of loneliness has been so great he felt as if his heart was being
shredded. Those thoughts are quickly replaced with another kind of sadness
when he finds an ocean dweller who should never be in fresh water crawling
from his manmade lake. Little does Kils know saving the animal will alter
his undead life forever.
Will these fantastic creatures' existence be changed for better or
worse?
EXCERPT
Copyright ©2023 J. Hali Steele
Everything eventually dies.
Death was coming for Cove Deville today. And it was his own damn
fault.
The evening had started with promise. From a table in the corner of a
restaurant he often frequented, Cove had watched a small but athletic
stranger climb out of his pickup truck and enter the eatery. A treat for me.
Taking a seat at the bar, the man looked around and their eyes met. There
was an immediate connection. Not a mentalist by a long shot, Cove gathered
they both desired a sexual escapade -- a hard, fast fuck to end their
evening. Looked as if the man’s day had been spent fishing, while
Cove’s had been filled with… Shit, he never did anything other
than walk the beach and kick up seashells he’d probably emptied
himself before they drifted on shore and got smushed into the sand by
beachgoers and volleyball players.
Cove was a real man-whore who preferred men who were up in age. That day,
though, he’d craved companionship. He decided he could forego a
handsome older gentleman for a young one with a nice ass just this once. He
shamelessly flirted with the bastard until both decided to leave together.
Cove never took men home, and he’d learned not to be finicky about
where his hookups took place. After driving uphill along a winding dirt road
that appeared not to be used much, they’d ended up in the back of his
hookup’s pickup parked in a wooded area a mile or more from a steep,
craggy shoreline.
Physical release would usually be followed by Cove’s return to the
beach where, after dark, he’d undress and hide his clothing behind a
boulder. Wading into the warm ocean water, Cove would dive out of sight. An
hour or two later, rejuvenated, he’d surface, redress, and return to
his apartment in Malibu.
Alone.
That evening, though, Cove had gotten stupid. He allowed an argument to
develop over the fact that Cove did not want to be screwed. He yearned to
take the younger guy. Who knew his pretty little ass was a top? While it was
not his favorite way of fucking, Cove had bottomed a handful of times in his
life. But, damn, the man he’d picked up had such a pleasing round ass
and Cove had spent nearly an hour imagining plundering said ass. Taking what
he wanted. His selfishness had bitten Cove in the behind by way of a beer
being tossed in his face.
Unfortunately, alcohol in any form or potency was deadly.
Not. A. Single. Drop.
When the fucker left to take a piss, Cove had attempted to ease the
discomfort caused by the beer. He sucked the ice from around the fish in the
cooler stretching the width of the truck bed. Eventually losing control, he
shifted and fell all the way in. Thanked God he was able to regulate his
size.
The son of a bitch hadn’t even looked for Cove when he got back.
Cursing like a sailor when he looked in the cooler, he slammed the lid,
jumped in the cab of the pickup and drove like a bat out of hell for what
felt like miles down a bumpy dirt road. Skidding to a stop, the bastard
removed the cooler and dumped the contents, including his day’s catch,
into a small lake.
Fresh water! It would help flush the alcohol from Cove’s skin, but
remaining in this pond for too long was still a death sentence. Robbed of
the strength needed to shift, Cove knew his situation grew more dire as the
sun rose, its deadly light blazing into the sky. He heard someone approach
from the wooded area and cross the small strip of beach surrounding the
lake. The figure looked like a man. When necessary, Cove could borrow from
his octopod’s elevated sense of smell, but not this time. His animal
was as stymied as Cove. Snuffling the air from his position, Cove grappled
with discerning what stood glaring at him. He only knew the vision before
him smelled fabulous. Fresh, clean, and… not human. Definitely not
the young man from last night.
About the Author
Growl and roar -- it's okay to let the beast out. -- J. Hali Steele
J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay
warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t
do those things but she wishes she could!
J. Hali's a multi-published Amazon bestselling author of Romance in
Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and
LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide --
and they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can
be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of
coffee.
Author on Instagram/Facebook: @jhalisteele
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress
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